Situations, Sorrows, and Strenth
by SasuSakuisforalways
Summary: A series of short, Yullen drabbles, with quite a bit of angst. No deaths... I can't write deaths without crying.


So basically, I needed to write, but I wasn't up for creating a chapter for any of the fics I'm currently working on.

And then I found the brilliant 'drabble-challenge' or task or something.

I'm not gonna go fetch all the rules, but chances are you've probably heard of it before if you're reading this.

So basically, you turn your iPod or MP3 on to shuffle, and you've got the time of one song to write a drabble. When that song ends, you have to finish your thought and move onto the next one.

So basically, despite the fact that I say I don't like drabbles, this happened.

And I hope whoever reads this enjoys it, because I'm paying for it right now.

With one killer migraine.

*it's currently late at night, and I'm staring at a bright screen, and I was blasting music in my poor, abused ears*

And I'm gonna have to get up early tomorrow.

Excellent.

* * *

Love. Love and hope.

What could any of it mean to them? What could it mean at all? They're lies. Two words are an infinite hole of lies, and every second is one spent growing closer to death and all those words are lies.

Whatever they were now… Whatever they could have been—might have been… None of it mattered. Not now that the Fourteenth was so close. Not now that the world was ending around them and the skies filled with blackened clouds that shed the tears of the wives and children whose fathers and brothers and sisters had died.

Blood stained every available surface with the stench of death, and every moment was a canvas for betrayal and hatred and despair.

So when the swordsman's lips pressed down upon Allen's, the boy felt nothing. Nothing at all.

This was simply another moment of silence, another unspoken agreement. Another threat—blackmail material perhaps… Because the swordsman would inevitably work things in his favor. That was just the way of Kanda.

And Allen had loved every bit of it. That silken hair, that passionate touch, that gentle kiss.

But right now, the white-haired boy felt nothing.

And that was for the best.

* * *

Damn his arrogance. Damn that smirk. Damn it all.

The swordsman existed only to torture Allen. It was just the way of life. His words, his movements, his voice. All of it.

The way Allen's name rolled off the Japanese man's tongue was sweet as honey and sensual and addicting.

Addicting. That was a very good word to describe that man with.

Under the shadow of night, in the confines of one of their rooms, both released the tensions of their days, slowly waiting for the end to come and wanting the days to end but continue all at the same time.

And that was addiction… Addiction, straight up, that made both return to each other at the end of the day.

No, it was not the way the swordsman's eyes shimmered under moonlight or the way that damp, sweaty hair stuck to his shoulders and cascaded down around his face.

No, thank you very much, it was not the way that the man's voice sounded when he told Allen that he loved the parasitic exorcist, and the swordsman didn't love him. That wasn't possible. It simply could not be.

So Allen would be contented with his addiction and make nothing more of it than that.

* * *

No. No way in hell.

There was no way.

No way.

God, he couldn't even deny it anymore.

The way that that boys eyes gleamed when they fought, the gorgeous, innocent sorrow of his voice when he threw curses back at the man.

Why did it all sound like confessions of love… Every last god-damned word that came out of that boy's mouth was a lie, an apology, or a confession. Allen didn't lie to Kanda, and he most certainly would not dream of apologizing to him.

Which left one option, and the swordsman hated it, because every time that that bright tone entered his world, a very, very bad idea popped into the swordsman's head.

Every day was a battle, and under every argument was another, lying just beneath the surface.

No way in hell.

Even if there was a way in hell, Kanda Yuu would never admit his feelings to the boy.

That much was certain.

* * *

Oh, it is so on. So on.

That Moyashi was going to eat his own words at last, and the swordsman had concocted the perfect plan. There would be no more arrogance on the part of that beansprout, and Kanda would ensure that, ensure that every last shred of pride was ripped away from the youth.

Around them, the entire Black Order carried out an every-day, monotone breakfast, but they were about to get the next month's worth of gossip, and they didn't even know it.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, and smugly, the gorgeous nightmare of a swordsman leaned in, pressing his lips ever so gently into the unsuspecting Moyashi's.

What a priceless face.

* * *

Irellevant. It didn't matter that Lavi was there, or that the third exorcists were as well, or that Lenalee was currently holding a camera and video-taping the entire thing.

All that mattered was the pair of soft, passionate lips that moved against Kanda's own chapped ones.

Whatever Tiedoll said while smirking, whatever Marie answered. Whatever Link or Lvellie or Aprocrophys could concoct-none of it mattered.

Not when the lips underneath the swordsman's parted and the boy's tongue snaked out to swipe the man's lips, hungry and arrogant. Not when the swordsman curiously allowed the muscle to slip inside his mouth.

None of it was worth of a single thought when the boy's tongue engaged in a dance with the swordsman's and their bodies pressed together.

Nope. Classroom? Who cared. Teacher? Probably apologizing for something she knocked over—oh… Now standing in the doorway.

Who cares? Kanda didn't.

Not when the boy, oh-so-arrogantly pulled the tie from the older teen's long hair so that it cascaded down in a curtain of sapphire silk.

And after the initial shock, KandaYuu felt himself pressing back, battling the Moyashi's tongue back into the boy's mouth with practiced ease.

And that wasn't fair if Allen had any say, but what could the boy have really expected. No surprise there.

Allen hated him with a passion. Okay, so maybe hate was a questionable word, but the passion part was spot on.

And the naïve boy would pay for that later, Kanda decided.

* * *

He would not allow a single soul to parish, not a single cry to echo over the blood-stained, beaten path before him, not if it was in his power.

What a fool. What a god-damned fool. Couldn't the boy see that the desire to protect everyone would always kill someone in the end? Always kill someone…

And that person was the boy himself.

The agony, the sick, twisted irony of the entire ordeal made the swordsman's stomach churn and his head throb.

But why should he care in the first place? The two were sworn enemies, a pair of fighting fish, a duet of agony… Duet? God, now he was going crazy.

None of those kisses counted, thank-you-very-much. None of those addictive, beautiful nights. None of those silent, tranquil moments when Kanda lost himself in the ocean of silver that was Allen's gorgeous eyes.

And none of it mattered because they would die together, tonight. And that was the end of it.

* * *

If you read closely enough, you might even find some of the names of the songs I was listening to...well, you have to know what to be looking for.

Anyways. Goodnight, bunnies.

Review if you deem the work of lowly girl worthy, but she loves you regardless.

~Sophia


End file.
